


alone.

by VONR4UM (orphan_account)



Category: The Stanley Parable
Genre: >:(, Apologies, Autism, Autistic Stanley, M/M, Stimming, Written by autistic author, anyway, have fun, i can't write rn so this is all yall getting, it's too early for this (2pm), stanley has autism fight me, the narrator is unintentionally mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:26:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25088383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/VONR4UM
Summary: 'For once he wished there was a story. He wanted to be obedient. He wanted The Narrator back.'
Relationships: The Narrator/Stanley (The Stanley Parable)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 80





	alone.

Something was different this time around. 

Something was very, very wrong; and it took a moment for Stanley to realise, but once he got there, he couldn't stop thinking about it. 

He'd restarted. He was back in his office, with the door standing wide open, and he had that option once more: close it and restart, or go on, back to the two doors,  _ "the red one, Stanley!" _ But there was something seriously wrong. 

The Narrator hadn't said anything. 

There wasn't his usual chatter; and this stunted the human in multiple ways. 

_ What was he going to do now? Wait? _

He stood for a few minutes. He waited, and waited, and waited, but that annoying British accent never came. He was at a complete loss, and he tried to collect his wits, tried to make sense of the situation at hand, yet the conclusions he arrived to were all bad; The Narrator was mad at him for not listening, or he was sleeping- 

_ Do aliens sleep?  _

-or he had simply left, but then what would that mean for Stanley? Was he stuck here, all alone for eternity, no storyline to abide by, no one to talk to when he was tired of it all? He was doomed to never restart, keep the same startup forever. 

For once he wished there was a story. He wanted to be obedient. He wanted The Narrator back. 

Now, at this point, he'd become aware of his elevated breathing, the way his cheeks had grown bright red, the way his head was spinning dangerously. He needed to sit down. He needed The Narrator. 

_ Where was he? _

This was such a drastic change, he needed stability.  _ Needed it.  _

His hands moved against his will and he started scratching at his arms, digging his nails into the skin of his palms - everything seemed  _ wrong, wrong, wrong…  _

He was to blame. If only he’d listened to The Narrator and did what he was told, he wouldn’t be alone without a purpose, he’d have stability and consistency and everything would be normal and maybe his heart would stop pounding in his ears.  _ Maybe.  _ There was pounding, and ringing, and an inkling of a voice, but all the human could do was cover his ears tightly in alarm, blocking out the world. Or, well, more fittingly, their little plain of existence.

It took a solid five minutes for him to uncover his ears, and what he heard after bought relief to every fibre of his being, “ _ Stanley!  _ Are you okay, now? Stanley?”

It was The Narrator! ...and there was a slight hint of… worry, in his voice?

Stanley would have laughed if not for the fact that his throat was burning.

He lifted shaky arms and started signing up to the ceiling,  _ ‘Where did you go?’ _

The Narrator’s voice elevated in pitch slightly, catching them both of guard, “Nowhere! I was testing something out!” He grumbled slightly to himself, “You obviously didn’t like me being here and leading you along my  _ cleverly crafted  _ story, so I thought I’d-”

_ ‘Stop?’  _ Stanley signed, still shaky,  _ ‘Never fucking do that again.” _

“Hey, language!” He cleared his throat, “And anyway, what was all that? You really need to stop overreac-”

Stanley cut him off again with frantic hand gestures,  _ ‘I’m sorry, okay? It’s- it’s not my fault. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” _

“I- how is it not your fault, Stanley? No one else forced you to do any of that!”

The human looked up with teary eyes, and the non-human entity immediately felt bad, scrambling for different words to say, a different way to phrase whatever the fuck he would say next, but nothing would come to mind. He was  _ confused.  _ Human emotions were out of his control. He couldn’t do much.

_ ‘I’m… it’s a human thing. I’m autistic.’  _

“I think I’ve heard of that. I had to be educated on human emotions before this all started. I still don’t understand them, however.”

Stanley sighed hoarsely, breathing out deeper and steadier, and a hand on his heart proved to him that his heart was no longer racing, and panic was no longer nestled into the marrow of his very bones - he was  _ calm. _

_ ‘Yeah, obviously.’ _

“Look, I’m sorry, Stanley. If it makes you feel any better, I won’t do that again, I promise.”

_ ‘Yeah, you fucking better not.’ _

“Language, Stanley!”


End file.
